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Dr. Bob is Robert Hsiung, MD,
bob@dr-bob.orgShown: posts 1 to 7 of 7. This is the beginning of the thread.
Posted by Atticus on January 19, 2005, at 15:01:47
Lays Down a Whisker Drum Snare
Simon sleek as a snake,
His mind so awake, wrapped in a
Charcoal-toned sheath of fur,
Sets his jade full-moon eyes
On the ruckus nearby,
Cocks his head and simply purrs.
Asks Mishka if that cat
Wants to add sweet jazz to that,
But at first the tabby demurs.At a table, hairless apes, mouths all agape,
Sip the juice of the grape
Amid a world of drunken blurs.
“I think it’s wasted on them,”
Mishka huffs, a smirk within,
“But if you like, you can go first.”
Cat’s blast of Coltrane
Spins sax spells on their brains,
As Simon cuts loose a throaty burst.And Mishka don’t care,
Lays down a whisker drum snare,
Makes the apes forget their thirst.
So the joint really swings
To “My Favorite Things,”
The audience fully immersed.
The cool cats improvise
’Til midnight plus five,
Fluent, flowing, but all unrehearsed.“Sometimes they’re so unhip,”
Mishka says through pursed lips,
“But, baby, I’ve sure seen worse.”
Simon nods a quick yes,
Puts his lungs to the test,
Hits a high note, claw-sharp and terse.
The cats take their bows,
Figure that’s all for now,
For primates so culturally unversed.
-- Atticus
Posted by malthus on January 19, 2005, at 15:36:08
In reply to poem ... Lays Down a Whisker Drum Snare, posted by Atticus on January 19, 2005, at 15:01:47
Yes--These cats need no wine--they are naturally high, hip and have us all figured out. This poem reminds me of "The Bear Comes Home" by Rafi Zabor. You would love this book-- it's about a walking, talking, Blake-and Shakespeare-quoting bear who also plays a mean alto-sax. (The writer lives in Brooklyn, of all places ;))
malthus
Posted by saw on January 20, 2005, at 1:51:16
In reply to poem ... Lays Down a Whisker Drum Snare, posted by Atticus on January 19, 2005, at 15:01:47
This made me think of Macavity, the Mystery Cat. I have this on my "Encore" CD by Sarah Brightman and am quite a dab hand at singing it. (No match for double quotes)
Sabrina
Posted by Atticus on January 20, 2005, at 11:23:39
In reply to Re: poem ... Lays Down a Whisker Drum Snare, posted by malthus on January 19, 2005, at 15:36:08
Hi Malthus,
This poem came to me as I mused on what Simon and Mishka might be thinking as they watched the tipsy revelry last Saturday. I figured, given his more outgoing personality, Simon would naturally take the lead. Cats just project such attitude; it's a big part of what makes them so chill and laid back to me. They're born observers -- a bit like Cheshire poets. Ta. ;) Atticus
Posted by Atticus on January 20, 2005, at 11:26:48
In reply to Re: poem ... Lays Down a Whisker Drum Snare » Atticus, posted by saw on January 20, 2005, at 1:51:16
This poem was inspired by a dinner party followed by a drinking game last Saturday. I wondered what the two cats, watching with a vague air of disdain and bemusement, were making of our actions. ;) Atticus
Posted by malthus on January 20, 2005, at 19:36:29
In reply to Re: poem ... Lays Down a Whisker Drum Snare » malthus, posted by Atticus on January 20, 2005, at 11:23:39
Hi Atticus: I read this again and two more things came to mind. First, I checked out a John Coltrane cd from the library two summers ago and "My Favorite Things" was the last track--something like eleven minuntes long, really beautiful too. Second, did the drum line come from Mishka playing with the plastic ball with the bell inside on the stairway? I love this poem ;p (ps--did you notice the magnet on my refrigerator "love me, love my cats"? ha--I originally typed in fr*g and as you can see it got auto-asteriked--<<absolutemente loco>>
malthus
Posted by Atticus on January 21, 2005, at 10:15:43
In reply to Re: poem ... Lays Down a Whisker Drum Snare, posted by malthus on January 20, 2005, at 19:36:29
Hi Malthus!
Coltrane's sinuously jazzy version of "My Favorite Things" was his most popular piece, both among jazz afficianados and casual listeners. Performing at the famous Village Vanguard in 1963, he improvised and teased out a stunning 18-minute version, which I have on a CD.Mishka's playing with the ball planted the idea of musical cats in my head, but the sound of the bell wasn't quite jazzy enough. So I imagine him in the poem, slow and dreamy and cool, tapping his whiskers as support percussion to Simon's melody line on a hard surface like the floor or a table top, to mimic the light sound of a snare (one of those things that looks like a metal whisk broom, just in case you're unfamiliar). A snare in jazz tends to lay down a very gentle percussive carpet of sound without being as obstrusive as a drumstick. It's a very laid-back sound, and I thought it would match up well with Mishka's personality. ;) Atticus
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